


Human Sexuality 101

by syrasynn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Everyone lives except the Hales, M/M, No wolves, PTSD Derek, Semi-Public Sex, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrasynn/pseuds/syrasynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles and Derek meet in a human sexuality class and proceed to hate/like/screw each other. </p><p>"You are aware, Mr. Stilinski," and Stiles was about 90% sure that his last name was now somehow a veiled insult, "that you are taking a course in Human Sexuality, yes?"</p><p>Stiles opened his mouth to respond, because he really didn't grasp the concept of hypothetical questions, but Professor Holtz obviously saw this coming and plowed right ahead. "We will be discussing both female and male reproductive cycles, which includes looking at vaginas. Do you have a problem with vaginas?"</p><p>Now she was just fucking with Stiles, he could tell. Her lips were practically curling into a damn smirk. "No, I love vaginas. Vaginas are great."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles slid haphazardly through the doorway, managing to catch his sneaker on the doorframe and nearly face-planting on the carpet. He considered it a good sign that only half the class turned to stare at his clumsy entrance. He gave a small wave to Professor Holtz, who had only paused slightly at the intrusion, and made a bee line for an empty seat at the back. Stiles recited a silent prayer to the gods of public university seating for the classroom having actual tables and chairs and not the damn tiny desk/chair hybrids from hell. Things were supposed to get better in the progression from high school to college, not smaller and older and made out of harder plastic. Stiles's ass was still sore from sitting through his American History class that morning - and on a related note - why the _fuck_ did 7am classes even exist?

Stiles slouched down at the only open seat in the back, next to a grouchy looking guy who Stiles judged to be quite a bit older than himself. It wasn't a shock or anything, there was a single mom in his morning class who had brought her kid with her. Stiles got that single parenting was hard, seriously, poster child right here, but he was still distracted by the little girl's adorably chubby cheeks and wide blue eyes. He may have spent the better part of the lecture making faces and cooing at a baby. The Civil War was boring anyways. Stiles covertly leaned over (okay, it wasn't covert, he couldn't do covert, whatever) to Mr. Grumpyface.

"Hey, what did I miss?" Stiles employed his best stage-whisper, but by the look the kid in front of him shot at him over his shoulder, Stiles would need to work on it.

Mr. Grumpy-stubble-handsome-face didn't look impressed. "The first 15 minutes of class."

Stiles didn't bother to resist the urge to roll his eyes. There was eye-rolling all over the place. "Thank you, that was very helpful."

Stiles pulled out his textbook and started flipping pages randomly, trying to find the one that resembled the page Mr. Grumpy-sexy-stubble-angry-face (Stiles evaluated people in stages, alright? Sometimes it took a few minutes to get their nicknames down right) was on. He didn't want to lean into the guy's space again to see what page number it was, so he was kind of side-glancing and trying to match up the pictures.

"It's page 78." Sourpatch said, not even bothering to look in Stiles's direction.

And yeah, Sourpatch was good. That's what he was gonna go with. Stiles didn't bother to thank him - two can play that grumpy game, Sourpatch - and turned to the right page.

"Oh, that's a vagina."

Stiles heard a choked off bark of laughter, but by the time he looked at Sourpatch, the man had a hand covering his mouth so Stiles couldn't actually be sure that he was the one who laughed.

"Is there a problem back there, Mr. Stilinski?" Professor Holtz turned her gaze to Stiles, a manicured eyebrow raised in question.

"No, ma'am, no problems back here. Just wasn't expecting to see a vagina today." Stiles spewed, simultaneously mortified and weirdly proud that his professor knew his name on the second week of class.

"You are aware, Mr. Stilinski," and Stiles was about 90% sure that his last name was now somehow a veiled insult, "that you are taking a course in Human Sexuality, yes?"

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, because he really didn't grasp the concept of hypothetical questions, but Professor Holtz obviously saw this coming and plowed right ahead. "We will be discussing both female and male reproductive cycles, which includes looking at vaginas. Do you have a problem with vaginas?"

Now she was just fucking with Stiles, he could tell. Her lips were practically curling into a damn smirk. "No, I love vaginas. Vaginas are great." Good god, he had some sort of condition. This was getting out of hand.

"Fantastic. Brace yourself, Mr. Stilinski. Next week we get to look at penises." With that, Professor Holtz turned back to her PowerPoint, clicking to the next slide. Which, of course, was a detailed diagram of a vagina. Stiles had a feeling it was going to be a vagina kind of day.

The rest of the lecture was spent going over (in great detail) the female anatomy. Stiles wasn't a moron, maybe willfully ignorant, but _Jesus Christ_ he didn't realize how fucking complex that shit was. Also - menstruation sounded like a bitch. So did pelvic exams. And the whole pushing a human out of there. What were the upsides again? Oh yeah, the clitoris. That sounded pretty bitching.

Stiles was sketching a small uterus in the margins of his textbook when he felt the heavy weight of judgmental eyes. Stiles sighed and turned to stick out his tongue at Sourpatch. Seriously, he paid like, 200 bucks for this book. He could draw pictures of uteruses in top hats in it if he wanted to. Professor Holtz called for a break after an hour and a half - because 3 hour once a week classes were a bitch.

"Are you even paying attention?" Wow, Stiles was actually unaware that someone could be so expressive through the use of mainly their eyebrows, but there it was.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, concerned citizen. What's your problem, anyways?" Stiles didn't usually antagonize people on purpose, but the guy really had a stick up his ass.

"I don't have a problem. I just don't understand why people come to class when they have no intention of actually learning anything."

Stiles huffed, indignant. "Excuse you, just because I don't learn the same way you do doesn't mean I'm not paying attention." Stiles didn't get the chance to continue his educational rant of righteousness, because Professor Holtz started class back up. Stiles went back to his uterus creations, throwing in a few penises in tutus for dramatic effect. He was big enough to admit that he did it mostly to spite Sourpatch next to him.

As soon as class was called to an end, Stiles noticed that his table-mate bolted really quickly. Stiles felt a prickle of pride for having probably been the one to chase him off. He took his time packing up, possibly basking a tiny bit in the sweet glory of victory. A victory short-lived, he discovered, when he nearly ran into the guy standing just outside the classroom. "Dude, what, are you idling out here to belittle me some more?"

Sourpatch rolled his eyes. He was almost as good at it as Stiles. "No. I'm waiting for someone."

Stiles gave him the side-eye, not quite believing that, but whatever. Dude wants to creep? Go for it. Stiles turned to head down the hallway, beyond ready to pass out in his bed back home, when a bundle of blonde curly hipster rounded the corner and nearly plowed into him. It seemed to be a theme for the night.

"Derek!" Blondie breezed past Stiles like he was invisible - which, rude - and clasped Sourpatch on the shoulder. Stiles mentally noted his name (not nearly as catchy as the nicknames Stiles had come up with) and again spun to head down the hallway. "See you next week, Derek!" he called out over his shoulder, just to be a dick.

Stiles had a feeling he was really going to enjoy this class.


	2. Chapter 2

The next week, Stiles got to class early and snagged his seat in the back, at Derek's table. He wasn't sure what was driving him to annoy the guy on purpose, but Stiles wasn't really one to deny himself. Besides, teasing people was pretty much the only way he made friends. Not that he was banking on being friends with Derek. That guy was just a dick. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Derek was a manly hunk of sexiness. Nope.

As the classroom started to fill up, Stiles propped his feet up on the seat next to him, which would force Derek to pick a seat closer to the front. Clever? Not really. But it would probably piss him off. Stiles was all about creating the minor inconveniences. It was beyond gratifying to see the look on Derek's face when he walked in the classroom to see Stiles's feet propped up on his chair.

Immensely gratifying, for all of five seconds. Derek's face shifted from mild surprise to cold anger like he flipped a switch. Stiles had a moment to feel confusion (seriously, it wasn't a criminal offense dude, calm down) before Derek turned his back and straight up just walked out of class. Then Stiles felt a wave of guilt. Quite undeserved, really, but still. Damn, that guy just couldn't take a joke. Stiles put his feet down and suffered through the class feeling both anxious and incredibly stupid.

Stiles took extremely detailed notes - completely not like himself at all - and even refrained from making any penis jokes under his breath. Which was a shame, really, because he had been saving some up, just to be topical for this class. Too bad he was a complete asshole and scared off the guy he came up with all the jokes for. Well, kind of for. More to get a rise out of him. But still. The thought was there. Class dragged by, despite the glorious topic of the male human reproductive system.

When class was over, Stiles hung around, hoping in a sick way that Derek would be waiting out in the hall waiting for the curly-haired guy again. Not that Stiles had a plan for what he would say to Derek, but he'd think of something. Whatever would make him feel less guilty. He was out of luck, though. The hallway remained free of both hipsters and angry Hollister models, to Stiles’s disappointment. Stiles trudged out to the parking lot, spotting his jeep immediately.

The lot was nearly empty - people didn’t really stick around Beacon Hills Community College after a night class too often. Not exactly the pinnacle of youthful excitement. Stiles slung his backpack through the open window into the empty passenger seat. He walked around to the driver’s side and paused when he glanced up to see a shadowy figure leaning on the hood of the camero parked a few spaces away.

“Hey! Sourpatch!”

Derek turned, and Stiles gave himself a mental high-five that he actually responded to the nickname. Obviously it was apt. Once Derek saw who it was, he leveled a dirty glare at Stiles and turned back around without a word. Cold, man.

“Hey, don’t be like that, Derek.” Stiles reached back through his passenger window and rummaged through his backpack. “I’ve got something for you.” Stiles yanked out his Human Sexuality notes and walked over to Derek, extending them. Derek still wasn’t looking at him, fully absorbed in his sulk.

“Dude, I took notes for you. Just take them.” Stiles said, while slapping the sheaf of papers against Derek’s chest. He did his best not to notice just how solid that chest felt. Stiles was totally not interested. At all.

When Derek brought up his hand to grab at the papers and Stiles was reasonably sure they wouldn’t end up on the parking lot asphalt, he turned and got in his jeep. He was nearly sure that the word of thanks he heard from Derek was in his head.

*

“Is it okay though? Really?”

Stiles spun around in his desk chair, grabbing the marshmallow shooter off the corner of his desk as he went. “Yeah man,” he replied, kicking at the leg of his desk to get more speed on his next rotation. “It’s not bad.” He was going for his third spin when he heard Scott sigh. He flailed out his arms to catch himself at the desk (only knocking over the pencil holder – not bad) and faced his laptop screen, where Scott’s face was projecting worry.

“No, man, really. It’s totally fine. BHCC isn’t like, a challenge or anything, but it’s not bad. And it’s good for me to be here. With my dad. You know.” Stiles gives a half-shrug, knowing Scott can interpret it. Scott’s face doesn’t look any less worried, though, which is pretty much the opposite of what Stiles was going for. Stiles could hear Allison in the background, it sounded like she was cooking. Which was the perfect distraction for Stiles to bring up.

“So, how’re you and Allison? Still ‘just roommates’?” Scott huffed, and the look of worry finally fell off his face. Scott and Allison had broken up in senior year, but managed stay pretty good friends. When they both got accepted to UC Berkeley, it just made sense for them to share an apartment. At least, that’s what Scott kept telling Stiles, but he was having a hard time seeing them as ‘not a couple’.

“Yeah, dude. Just roommates. She’s actually kind of…” Scott lowered his voice, leaning forward to the point where Stiles could see his uneven (but still very handsome) jaw line. “She’s kind of scary, man. Like, with the cleaning. We have a chore chart, on the fridge. She got stickers and everything.” Stiles bit at his lip to keep from laughing, but only because he could see genuine horror in his friend’s face. “Did you get a gold star this week?” Stiles asked, as straight-faced as possible.

Scott groaned, throwing himself back in his chair. “Whatever, dude. Anyways, there’s this girl in one of my classes, Kira…”

Stiles watched as that dopey, dreamy look overcame Scott’s face while he described (in unnerving detail) Kira’s perfect hair. Stiles listened (because he was the _best_ best friend) as Scott moved from Kira’s hair to her smile before he kind of zoned out. Not because he wasn’t totally interested in everything Scott had to say, but seriously. He could only take so much concentrated adorableness from Scott, and he’d hit his limit. His mind drifted, flitting to thoughts of his dad’s health, the small mountain of reading he needed to catch up on, did he take his Adderall this morning? He was pulled from thoughts about the history of male circumcision (it was educational, okay?) when Scott mentioned Derek.

“Huh, wait, what?” Stiles snapped to attention, jerking his body straight in his chair. “Derek? Derek who?” And yeah, that was real smooth. Stiles could tell immediately from the smirk on Scott’s face that he messed up. Stiles couldn’t help it. He had a _compulsion._ “I wasn’t talking about your ‘Sourpatch’, dude.” Scott said through his smirk. “But since you brought it up, how is Mr. Grumpyface?”

Stiles groaned and idly twisted back and forth in his chair. Swivel chairs were the best. “I shouldn’t have told you about him. Fatal mistake on my part.” Scott’s smirk didn’t even waver – this was so unfair. Stiles never made fun of Scott’s crushes…mostly. At least, not recently. Not that he had a crush on Derek. Scott was just interpreting it that way. Totally off-base.

“Did you write him a note in class? ‘Do you like me – check yes or no’?”

“Ugh, you suck, Scott.”

Scott laughed, and Stiles shoot off a marshmallow at the smiling face on his computer screen. Stiles signed out Skype, Scott’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm on tumblr](http://hobbitonbound.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was a perfect gentleman for the next three weeks of class. He still sat at Derek’s table, of course, but kept his feet to himself. Derek seemed to take it pretty well – meaning he didn’t look at or speak to Stiles – so he figured the notes were an acceptable peace offering. Uncharacteristically, Stiles backed off on the teasing front, though he didn’t stem off on the jokes. He was already working on some killer puns for the chapter on STIs – Chlamydia was gonna be a hoot. He was pretty sure he even saw Derek almost smile a few times. Baby steps.

“Bye, Derek. See ya next week.” Stiles said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He expected to receive the standard ‘Derek grunt’ in response as usual, but Derek surprised him. “Stiles.” Stiles spun, more than happy to rest his eyes on Derek’s handsome face for as long as possible. Derek was still sitting at their table, arms crossed against his chest, staring up at Stiles. Stiles cocked his eyebrows, and then employed a head tilt when that failed to garner a response.

“Uh, yeah, Derek?” Derek blinked (wait, were they having a staring contest? Stiles wasn’t aware, that was not playing fair) and finally opened his mouth. “Do you have a partner for the midterm yet?” Stiles was unable to fully process the question, mostly because his mental system was still stuck on the fact that Derek had actually said an entire sentence. _To Stiles_. And just like that, Stiles was the one doing the creepy staring.

“Uh, no, what? Midterm? Is that a thing?” Derek’s lips twitched in an expression that Stiles decided to interpret as mild amusement. “Yes, Stiles, the midterm. The presentation that requires a partner? That’s due in two weeks?” Derek spoke slowly, as if he were explaining it to a child. Which really wasn’t that unfair, Stiles thought, after consideration. Stiles twisted the strap to his backpack over his knuckles, his leg jiggling.

“Are you asking me to be your partner?” Stiles wasn’t great at subtlety, okay? He also tended to blurt when he got anxious. Which was like, almost all the time. Besides, the point was that Derek wanted to be his partner. How freaking awesome was that? Stiles plowed on before Derek could respond. “I mean, yeah, of course you do. We can partner up. I mean, be partners. Work together. On stuff. Yeah.” Stiles fumbled with his backpack, pulling out a pen, operating mostly on autopilot.

“Here – “ Stiles grabbed at Derek’s hand, trying very hard not to categorize its softness, and started scribbling his number on Derek’s palm. Which was warm, and not at all sweaty. And had calluses on the fingers. Right. Not noticing. Working on that.

“Uh, so there’s my number. Text me. We’ll meet up. For research stuff. Right. Gotta run. Say hi to your hipster buddy for me. Peace!”

Stiles dropped Derek’s hand (why were they so soft? Did he moisturize?) and started backing out of the classroom, while talking. Stiles exited the room smoothly – not counting the almost trip on the doorframe, _again_ – and turned tail to run. Or power walk, really. Running was uncool. He was just quickly departing the scene.

As luck would have it, Stiles bumped into a scarf-clad curly-haired ray of sunshine on the way out. “Whoa, hey there, Derek’s buddy!” Stiles slapped the guy on the chest as he spun away down the hallway. “Have a great night, dude!” Scarf guy looked confused, but no less bubbly. “Yeah, you too, I guess?” Stiles heard as he rounded the corner.

Tonight was a good night.

*

_Are you free Wednesday night?_

Stiles stared at the text, running his thumb idly along the volume buttons on the side of his phone. No matter how long he looked at it (two hours and 36 minutes and counting), the words didn’t change. Neither did a witty and flirtatious reply type itself out in response. Thus, Stiles was left to stare at the screen of his phone and bite at his nails. Okay, yeah, Stiles had a crush. He could admit it. Derek was, by far, the hottest guy Stiles had ever had the misfortune to crush on (not counting Ryan Reynolds, but he wasn’t actually attainable), and he was a little nervous, alright? Derek was kind of an asshole, but he _had_ made an effort to be less of one, right? This whole ‘work on a project together’ thing wasn’t an elaborate set up or something, right?

Stiles flung his phone across the room to his bed, watching it bounce wildly and then slide to the floor. Awesome. Stiles sighed and threw himself into his desk chair dramatically, mourning the lack of audience to appreciate his theatrics. He booted up his laptop, thinking about googling an appropriate response – Google had yet to fail him. He ended up on a wikihow page for “How to Attract a Bad Boy”. The pictures were a nice touch, but it was extremely unhelpful.

When he heard a knock at his cracked door, Stiles spun to see his dad walk in, uniform on. “Yo, pops, what’s happening?” The Sheriff rolled his eyes (he wasn’t overly fond of the whole ‘pops’ thing) and planted his hands on his hips. “I’m off to the station. Don’t burn the place down.” He turned to walk back out, but caught a glance of the page Stiles was on.

“Uh, son, do we need to have a conversation?” he said, nodding to the screen. Stiles panicked, hastily slamming the lid closed on the laptop, covering it with his hands as if his dad could still see the image there. “No! Nope, nothing to conversate about here. Just researching. Stuff. For class. You know.” Stiles employed his best ‘playing it cool’ face, which was probably a dead giveaway for his dad, but it was worth trying.

“Good. I don’t wanna have to chase off a bad boy, okay Stiles? Pick someone nice.” With that, the sheriff strode out of Stiles’s room, leaving him to contemplate if he just came out to his dad. If that was as awkward as it was gonna be, Stiles’s would be fine with that. In fact, they could just never have the “I’m into dudes” conversation at all and that would be just fine. Stiles sighed, figured he had put off his reply long enough, and retrieved his phone.

_Sure. Wed @ 7 in BHCC library?_

No flirting, no antagonizing. Just being a decent human being. It was agonizing.

*

Wednesday found Stiles a wreck. In a fit of complete madness, he had even Skyped Scott to ask if his outfit looked okay. Scott was less than helpful, as his response consisted mostly of rolling around on the floor laughing. Allison, the angel, smiled and told Stiles he looked nice, but to wear the tighter jeans – “You know, the ones that make your butt look good”. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was the actual heartfelt suggestion or the fact that it got Scott to shut up, but he really loved Allison at that moment. Like, buy that girl a diamond necklace kind of love.

Stiles did change his jeans, and only agonized over his hair for like, a half an hour. Not too bad. He’d been known to fuss over his appearance for longer. Like during the great Lydia crush of high school. That was rough times for everybody. Mostly Lydia. Stiles got to BHCC early, because _of course_ he did, and ended up sitting in his jeep playing Flappy Bird for a good twenty minutes. His attention was caught when he heard the loud squeal of tires. He looked up to see a camero (Derek's camero, his mind helpfully provided) peel into the lot, taking a turn so fast Stiles was surprised all four wheels stayed in contact with the ground. Was it actually possible to get a car on two wheels? The only research Stiles's had on the subject was movies. He should Google it.

His thumbs were already flying over the touch screen keyboard of his phone by the time Derek parked a few spaces away and headed towards Stiles's jeep. Which was a much more intimidating sight than Stiles had imagined. Stiles recalled the conversation he had with his dad and noticed Derek was wearing a leather jacket which went quite nicely with all that manly stubble. Bad boy indeed.

Derek walked right up to the driver's side of Stiles's jeep and kind of just stood there. Stiles swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and hastily pushed the door open, a mantra of _be cool be cool_ running through his head. "Yooooo, buddy." Yeah, real cool. This was gonna be a freaking train wreck. Derek raised in eyebrows in amusement or contempt or whatever the hell he was feeling. Stiles wasn't a mind reader, okay? Derek was all complex and shit.

"Ready, buddy?" Derek replied. And yeah, that was a smirk on Derek's face. Train wreck. This was gonna be a train wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://hobbitonbound.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late to update and I'm sorry! Updates might be more sporadic from here on out - life is actually happening.

"Sooooo..." Stiles drew out, after they had claimed a table at the back. The library was small, with only four cramped tables shoved into the back corner, complete with uncomfortable creaky chairs. Luckily, they didn't have an audience. The BHCC library was hardly ever used, especially on a weeknight when it closed at nine. Small towns kind of sucked. Derek had slung himself into one of the wooden chairs, somehow making it look remotely comfortable. Stiles dawdled by pulling his textbook, a pen, and a notebook out of his backpack while Derek sat, not talking.

As Stiles pulled out a chair, he was struck with a sudden overwhelming apprehensiveness. This was a total set up. Derek hadn't even brought his book. He was going to expect Stiles to do all the work, he was just going to dick around and take credit for half of the assignment. It made sense. The dude hated Stiles, he hadn't made that a secret. He had even walked out of class that once. Ugh, he was a typical "bad boy" and Stiles hadn't even seen it. The only time Derek had been remotely nice to him was when he asked if Stiles wanted to be his partner on the midterm. Stupid, stupid!

In the split second it took Stiles to reach this conclusion, he was overwhelmed with anger. That's how his whole high school career had been. He couldn't count the number of times Jackson would somehow rope the teacher into letting him be in Stiles's group, never doing a ounce of work and intimidating Stiles into going along with it. Not anymore. Stiles was awkward and kind of weird, yeah, but he was done with being used. His sharp pang of anger was punctuated by a stab of disappointment that this is why Derek had wanted to be his partner.  

Stiles hardened himself, ready for a fight, as he gripped his textbook, not yet taking a seat. "So, Derek, any ideas on what topic we should do?" Stiles fully expected Derek to shrug and not respond, so he was taken aback when Derek eagerly launched into an explanation. "I think we should focus on paraphilias. I already emailed Prof Holtz and she said no other groups have claimed it. It's more interesting than STIs and pregnancy at least. We can group the paraphilias into the two main categories - coercive and non-coercive. It'll help split the work evenly, too."

Stiles blinked in surprise. For one glorious moment, it looked like his brain would process his thoughts silently instead of spewing them out as unfortunate word vomit. It was a false hope, however, as Stiles was incapable of keeping anything to himself, ever.

 

“Wait, what? You have a plan? You’re going to like, work on this?” Stiles’s hand was still clutching tightly to his textbook, frozen in confusion. He had loosely planned on slamming the book on the table when he got righteous on Derek’s ass for using him for an easy grade. That plan was pretty shot now, but Stiles’s body stubbornly refused to switch gears. His mind had sounded the alarm to be on defense, and now everything was on hold until further orders were confirmed.

 

Derek raised his eyebrows and Stiles was so _freaking_ sick of that being his main form of communication because Stiles doesn’t understand eyebrowese, okay? Words were the proper communication channel - which Stiles embraced wholeheartedly. People really needed to get on his level. “Yeah, are you okay with that? We can pick a different topic if you want.” Stiles realized that Derek was serious, that he totally had a plan and Stiles was being pretty judgy about the whole thing.

 

Didn’t Derek accuse Stiles of not paying attention when he didn’t take notes in class? And now Stiles had totally judged Derek because...well, because Derek was hot and Stiles obviously had some self-esteem issues. He would need to work on that. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “No, paraphilias. Great. I’m in. Love me some paraphilias.” Stiles slowly lowered his hand, setting his textbook on the table, still wary. He sat down heavily across from Derek, and the wooden chair creaked in protest. Derek looked mildly concerned at Stiles's sudden deflation, but seemed to judge it best not to call him out on it. "You don't know what paraphilias are, do you?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles shook his head, only a little embarrassed. "Uh, we didn't cover them in class yet, right?" Derek shook his head. "No, they're at the end of the book. It's...fetishes, kind of. Extreme sexual behaviors." Somehow, Derek didn't look at all embarrassed by that sentence. Stiles, on the other hand, was quite sure that his face went fuchsia at the word fetish. Well, this was gonna be a little awkward. He just knew that now every time he heard about a new fetish, he'd have Derek's face to along with the image in his mind. Which was hot, when he thought about bondage, but not so much when it was coprophilia. And yeah, he knew what coprophilia was. No judging. The internet was a scary and beautiful place.

 

"Oh. I, uh, didn't know they were called something other than fetishes." Stiles said truthfully. Derek leaned over and slid Stiles's book from under his limp hand. Which was kind of rude, really. Stiles knew Derek owned his own book - why couldn't he have brought his own? Derek flipped the book open and thumbed to the back, one of the last chapters in the book. "Here," he said, gesturing that Stiles should come around the table to see what he was looking at. Stiles did, grudgingly. His ass had almost adjusted to a comfortable position. Geez, was every chair in this place uncomfortable? Was it like, a state mandate or something?

 

Stiles slid into a chair next to Derek and _oh._ He could feel Derek's heat on his left side. He could _smell_ him. This...was a great idea, actually. Excellent. Derek had flipped to the chapter on paraphilias and had launched into an explanation that Stiles's brain hadn't yet started to pay attention to. He was short-circuiting on how awesome it was to be sitting this close to Derek. The table in their classroom was pretty long for just two people, and they'd never had to sit so close, as they never had the need to share a book. Stiles was already contemplating "loosing" his book somehow. Surely his new group partner would let him share during class?

 

Derek was talking though, and Stiles finally decided that listening might be a good idea. Derek did have a nice voice, too. "... so a fetish would likely be a type of paraphilia, but paraphilias are usually more intense." Stiles nodded dumbly, eyes fixed on the textbook. He was afraid if he looked at Derek's face he would do something embarrassing. He probably would anyways, but why tempt fate? Derek was pausing for too long, so Stiles judged this an appropriate time to respond. "Yeah, okay, cool. So uh, which paraphilias do you want to take?"

 

Stiles made the mistake of looking at Derek despite it being the opposite of the plan, and woah. Those green-brown-gold eyes were hella rad. Inadvertently, he found himself leaning forwards a bit to see if he could make out more colors. The lighting wasn't the best in the library - shitty fluorescents - but Stiles was thinking about how pretty Derek's eyes would be in the sunlight. "Dude, your eyes are really pretty."

 

Stiles froze, instantly aware that he had totally just said that out loud and oh man he was so screwed. But Derek, as he seemed to be doing lately, surprised him. "Thanks. You too. I'll take the coercive ones." And maybe it was the stress of being on edge all day or maybe Derek was actually trying to be funny, but Stiles could help but laugh. And it felt good. It loosened him up, forced him into relaxing. Yeah, Derek was gorgeous and Stiles was awkward. Whatever. Derek didn't seem to mind Stiles making an idiot of himself.

 

"Alright big guy, you get coercive paraphilias. Let's talk about our PowerPoint." Stiles said, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He could do this. Derek was even smiling, with his teeth no less.

 

Stiles would count that as a win.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while! I promise I have plenty of valid excuses for the huge delay. Regardless, here it is! Note the rating has officially gone up, and I've updated tags. I'm also thinking of changing the title, as the story is now going in a completely different direction than I originally intended. As always, un-beta'd. Hope you like it!

They left the library at a quarter till nine, encouraged by the not-so-subtle pointed glares from the librarian. Stiles was nearly giddy with how well the night had gone. Derek was actually being...kind of nice. And they had almost finished their presentation - a week and a half ahead of time. Stiles was used to all nighters the day before a project or assignment was due; it's just how his attention span let him work.  But Derek was like a machine, determined to finish the presentation and he somehow managed to keep Stiles on track. It was pretty impressive, actually.

 

"Dude, did you see the way that old lady was checking you out? The only reason she kicked us out is because you were giving her a lady-boner." Stiles says, laughing, as they walk side by side to the parking lot.

 

"Lady-boner? Haven't you learned anything in class, Stiles?" Derek said, with a small smirk curving his lips upwards. Stiles knocked his shoulder against Derek's and noticed how close they were in height. Derek had always seemed taller somehow - more intimidating. Must be the leather jacket. They reached their cars, a few spaces apart, and Stiles tossed his textbook in the passenger seat through the open window. Yeah, he left his widows open. If someone wanted to try and hotwire his clunky Jeep, they probably needed it more than him. He loved his Jeep and everything, but she was a bit of a deathtrap, he had to admit. Besides, who in Beacon Hills was gonna steal the Sheriff's son's car?

 

"Well, I'll see you Monday, Der- woah!" Stiles said, turning from his car to find Derek _much_ closer than he was a minute ago. Stiles jumped back a little (what, he was _startled_ , okay?) and found his back pressed up against the door of the Jeep. Derek was looking decidedly predatory and was just a teensy bit freaking Stiles out. "Hey there buddy. Uhhh, what's going on?" Stiles asked, aiming for casual and hitting "small panicked mammal" instead. Derek braced his hands against the Jeep, on either side of Stile's face. And yeah, Derek was still intimidating, newfound sense of humor or not.

 

Derek leaned closer, and his _insanely built_ chest pressed up against Stiles's. Stiles felt his throat go dry, as his eyes fixed on Derek's lips. He wasn't stupid, Derek was either gonna kiss him or head-butt him. Somehow, the former didn't sound as plausible as it might have before that night's study session. Derek's eyes flickered from Stiles's lips to his eyes before he finally darted in, pressing his mouth to Stiles's. Despite kind of seeing it coming, Stiles's first reaction was to full body spasm in shock. Which, of course, caused Derek to pull back.

 

"Sorry, I thought - do you not?" Derek asked, dropping his arms and taking a step back. Stiles reached out, grabbing at the collar of Derek's ridiculous jacket. "No - yes - I do, I so totally do." He said before pulling Derek back in, admittedly a bit awkwardly, and smashing his mouth back against Derek's. Thankfully, Derek was more with it, and titled his head so the kiss was actually something more resembling a kiss and not a painful head smush. Derek's stubble was scratching at his chin, and large hands were resting lightly on his waist and he opened his mouth because _yes, more please._ It was sloppy and unexpected and so, _so_ hot.

 

So of course all this positive attention goes straight to Stiles's dick, because a warm breeze gives him a boner, so playing tonsil hockey with the hottest guy Stiles has ever seen in person would of course do the same. He's trying to tilt his hips back while still being sexy with another guy's tongue in his mouth when Derek foils his plans by full-on gabbing his ass and pulling him forward. Stiles can't help the moan that leeks into Derek's mouth, because, hello, something to grind his dick on. Which was kind of the opposite of what Stiles was going for. But it looked like Derek didn't really mind, considering the way he wedged his thigh between Stiles's legs and tugged at his hips, encouraging some very enthusiastic humping.

 

Stiles broke free from the kiss, because air - it was a thing he needed. Unfortunately, it seemed if Stiles's mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, he had to put it to use with words. "Oh my god, Derek. What even -" Thankfully, Derek wasn't put off by Stiles's incessant need to fill silence with blabbering, and just pushed Stiles back against the Jeep, grabbing one of his thighs and wrapping it around Derek's waist. "Holy shit, are you serious?" Stiles leaned most of his weight against the Jeep and threw his arms around Derek's neck to keep his balance. Derek grinned at him, and holy crap that was a beautiful smile. "Yeah, I'm serious."

 

Derek pushed his hips against Stiles's, and Stiles felt the answering heat of Derek's arousal and _holy shit was this actually happening?_ Derek settled his hands at Stiles's hips, gripping and pulling as he slowly ground his jeans-covered erection against Stiles's. Stiles was emitting this embarrassing high pitched gasping noise that he didn't seem to have any control over, but at least he wasn't talking. Derek leaned down and started lapping and biting at Stiles's neck, and apparently that was a big turn on for Stiles, who moaned again and threw his head back, only to knock it against the Jeep. The pain barely registered, however, considering Derek was going to town on his neck and he was 90% sure he was about to lose his virginity in a community college parking lot.

 

"Oh god, Derek, am I about to lose my virginity? 'Cuz I am all about that, I really am, but this doesn't seem like the best place to-" Stiles cut himself off with a squeak when he realized that, yeah, he was saying all that out loud, of course he was.

 

Derek pulled himself off of Stiles's neck and immediately let go of his ass. Which, first of all, rude, and caused Stiles lose his balance and drop his leg from around Derek's waist to keep from embarrassing himself even more.

 

"This is your first time?" Derek asked, infuriatingly keeping his hands completely to himself.

 

 "Please don't give me some bullshit about how my first time should be special or something, okay? I'm frankly really excited I get to have sex with a guy on your hotness level at all, let alone my first time, please don't mess this up for me. I'm gonna brag about this for like, forever." Stiles thought that maybe being horny made him even more talkative, if that was somehow possible. Which was actually a little terrifying. He should quarantine himself or something the next time he feeling frisky. For his own good.

 

"I'm going to blow you now."

 

And just like that, Derek's on his knees, reaching for the zip to Stiles's jeans and _oh my god I'm gonna lose my v-card in a parking lot_ is the only thing going through Stiles's head. The thought's not there for long, as the instant Derek pulls out his dick and gets his mouth around him, Stiles's mind is filled with white noise. Derek just goes down, all the way, and Stiles is trying so hard to suppress his body from jolting in sheer pleasure. Stiles tangles his hands in Derek's hair, mainly to keep himself grounded, and grips. Derek seems to be all aboard that train, as he lets out a low moan around the dick in his mouth, looking up at Stiles.

 

It's honestly a miracle Stiles doesn't just blow his load right there.

 

Derek gives head like it's a freaking religion, and Stiles doesn't know how to handle it. Stiles can't do anything but hold on and watch as Derek ruins any chance Stiles has at being able to jerk off properly again. Because this is _way_ better than jerking off, and Stiles's isn't sure he'll ever be able to get himself off now that he has something to compare it to. Derek licks and sucks at him, and Stiles has never been this turned on in his life. There's no way he's going to last very long, judging by the noises Derek is managing to pull out of Stiles. Stiles is talking, because of course he is, and gasping, and probably moaning in a very embarrassing manner. Derek bobs his head, his eyes closed, and Stiles can see the smallest amount of spit dripping down his chin.

 

"Oh god, oh god, Derek, you gotta, I'm gonna-" Stiles said franticly, trying to pull at Derek's head as gently as possible. Derek moaned, and gripped one of Stiles's hands, bringing it down to cup Derek's check, where he could feel himself filling the other man's mouth. And that was it. He was coming in record time, shooting white hot tingles down his spine and to the tips of his fingers. Derek just took it, and Stiles watched in a kind of detached amazement as Derek swallowed around him. Stiles didn't even have it in him to be embarrassed by his lack of stamina as years of sex education suddenly crashed into him.

 

"Dude! Safe sex! What if I had something?" And yes, Stiles was totally chastising the guy who had just given him his first blowjob while he was still on his knees. In a parking lot. It was important to remember that part. Derek grabbed at Stiles's waist and pulled himself to his feet.

 

"You just told me you're a virgin, Stiles." Derek said before leaning in and stealing Stiles's chance of replying by sealing their mouths together. Derek's tongue pushed itself into Stiles's mouth and he could taste himself on Derek. It was pretty hot, actually. Even if it was a diversion tactic.

 

"What if I was lying?" Stiles asked, once he got his mouth back. Derek made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. Which was a bit concerning, really. But Derek was undoing his pants and pulling out his dick and that was a little distracting for Stiles. Derek was thick and uncut and Stiles had absolutely no idea what he should be doing.

 

"Oh god, do you want me to - should I -" Stiles made little hand motions towards Derek's dick, which Derek was stroking firmly without Stile's input. Derek curled his free hand around the back of Stiles's neck, his blunt fingernails digging into the skin there. "No. Just, talk." Derek grunted out, his head tilted down to watch himself. Talking was something Stiles was very good at, though he wasn't sure he'd live up to expectations in this scenario.

 

"Jesus, Derek. What the hell am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to talk you through an orgasm? Oh my god, your dick is like, crazy pretty. I know that sounds weird, but whatever, it's so true. I really wanna jerk you off. Or blow you. I don't know that I'd be any good, but I'm willing try if you'll let me practice. Wow, you leak a lot, huh? That's hot, I could get into that." Stiles just spouts, not really sure where's he's going when he starts talking. Derek's still gripping tight to the back of his neck, breathing heavy, and he leans a little closer, so that Stile's can feel Derek's hand brushing against his lower abdomen on an upward stroke. Which just makes Stiles realize that his pants are still undone and hanging open, his spent dick hanging limp in the cool night air.

 

"Oh, shit, you're gonna come on me, aren't you? Gonna come all over my dick -" Derek takes a sharp inhale and the fingers on Stiles's neck squeeze almost painfully tight. Stiles watches, rapt, as Derek comes in long spurts, landing on Stiles's balls and cock. He thinks for a half a second that he's going to get hard again, just from watching Derek come. Derek grunts his way through it, loosely holding the base of his dick until he's spent. Then he surges forward, claiming Stile's mouth in a rough kiss. When they part, they're both panting for breath. Stiles smiles. Not a bad way to lose your virginity.

 

"So. Wanna get a milkshake or something?"

 

Derek laughs, and Stiles figures he can ask about the parameters of their relationship once he's got a full stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So updates on this will be very sporadic from here on out. Grad school and a job doesn't leave me as much time to write as I'd like. But I have not abandoned this fic! It will be finished, just not for a while.

They end up sitting in an In-n-Out a town over, because apparently Beacon Hills isn’t even big enough to warrant having a location of the glorious fast food chain. Stiles doesn’t really mind. It’s not too far of a drive, but the distance does discourage his dad from making too many late night stops to clogged artery city. Stiles stabbed his plastic fork into his the mess that was his fries, catching a glob of cheese, onions, sauce, and hopefully some actual potato underneath it. He moaned when the concoction hit his tongue. The stuff was better than sex. Well, almost. Now that he actually had a sexual experience to compare it too, it didn’t quite hold up. Derek was looking at him incredulously, like he was being inappropriate or something. Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek and licked some of the cheese off his lips, as exaggerated as he could. 

“That wasn’t on the menu.” Derek said, sounding almost offended. Stiles stabbed at his fries again while Derek’s words settled in. It may have been taking him longer to process anything Derek said to him. This may or may not have been because Stiles was having hard time looking at Derek and not picturing him with his mouth wrapped around Stiles’s dick. It was a problem. He was working on it. 

“Dude. You don’t know about the secret menu? Are you like, from the east coast or something?” Stiles eyes him warily, and it hits him that he really doesn’t actually know anything about Derek. Like, at all. Other than that he’s got a pretty dick, but Stiles is thinking that if he wants to call Derek his boyfriend, he’ll need to find out more about the guy. And yeah, he definitely wants to date Derek. 

“Don’t call me dude. And no, I’m from Beacon Hills. I lived in New York for a little after – high school. But I came back.” Derek said, looking down at his own (sadly plain) double-double and vanilla milkshake. Stiles ignored the very obvious way Derek hesitated when mentioning New York – he’d get to that later. 

“Well, I can’t call you bro. Sorry, but that title’s reserved for Scott. No offense.” Stiles said, while cramming another heap of fries in his mouth. “Also,” he said around a full mouth, “you have no excuse for not knowing about the secret menu. But I do pity you, so I’ll get you a cheat sheet or something.”

Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes, but Stiles didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips turned up. He pushed his basket of fries closer to Derek, in a silent offering. Which is kind of huge, to be honest. Stiles doesn’t share food lightly. Even Scott doesn’t get a free pass on that. But Stiles figures he should do what he can to woo Derek, and this is probably his best game right now. Which is yes, a little sad, but Stiles is a realist – he works with what he has. It’s worth it to see the way Derek reaches his fingers into the basket with a smile on his face. 

It is also extremely worth it to watch Derek lick melted cheese off his fingers. Stiles does what he does best, and fills the empty air between them with words. Since Derek isn't exactly the most forthcoming with his (Stiles is presuming) tragic backstory, Stiles very graciously takes one for team and offers up his own. Nothing too heavy - he mentions his mom, but never focuses on her death - sticks to talking about his life goals, why he's still in Beacon Hills, his dad. He's never been on an actual date before, so he's not really sure if his talking points are really relevant, but Derek doesn't try to stop him. In fact, Derek seems to pay rapt attention, asking questions and nodding along with some of his stories. 

It's a while before Stiles realizes that it's past eleven, and while his dad might not actually enforce a curfew on him anymore, he does have a class in the morning, though thankfully not until 9:30. One 7am class a week was quite enough bad decision making for one semester. They climb back in Stiles's jeep, because no way was Stiles gonna let Mr. Indy 500 drive him anywhere. Stiles still valued his life and sanity, thank you. 

Stiles decides to bring up the whole 'will you be my boyfriend' discussion while he's driving, because he's a coward and it gives him an excuse to not look at Derek. 

"Sooooo...are we dating now?" Stiles just blurts it out, because he figures it's like ripping off a band aid. Better to just get it done with. Though the subsequent long stretch of silence does not bode well for him, he thinks. 

"I mean, I would really like to be dating, obviously." Stiles just plows right on, having learned nothing in his life about the meaning of awkward silences. "But I can see how this might come off as clingy? Even though you're the one who jumped me in the parking lot. Not that I'm unhappy about that! Because that was awesome! And I'd like to do that again, really. Just maybe within the context of a relationship? Or not, you know, whatever."

Stiles finished his little rant weakly, gripping the steering wheel tightly and subtly trying to made his eyes wider to see Derek's face out of the corner of them. Of course, that's not really how anatomy works, so he really only succeeds in holding his eyelids open for a freakishly long time and causing his eyes to water for his trouble. 

"Stiles, I don't really do relationships."

And there it is. Which kind of sucks, but Stiles figures he can deal with this. After all, he doesn't really know Derek anyways. Why is he so eager to start dating him? Just because Derek is the hottest guy Stiles will ever meet in Beacon Hills doesn't mean he needs to lock him down right away. Besides, now that he's finally lost his virginity, sex is like, totally not a big deal anymore. He could totally sleep with a bunch of people. You know, all those single age-appropriate hotties that hang around the shit-stain of a town he lives in. Yeah. Those people. 

"Okay. Yeah, sure, that's cool. I mean, can we still have sex? Like, I'd really like to have sex with you, all the time, if that's a possibility. Unless you don't want to. Oh my god, do you not want to? Was I bad at sex?" Stiles is starting to think that maybe having this conversation while driving was actually a bad idea, because now he is freaking out a little about not being good at sex, and he's definitely looking at Derek now, and not the road. 

Derek is wearing an expression between uncomfortable and confused and it looks way too good on him. "It's not that I don't like you. Stiles, I like you. I just...have a bad track record when emotions get involved."

Stiles kind of jitters his left leg for a bit, while it's not occupied with the clutch, and tries to clamp his mouth shut. Derek is obviously the kind of guy who talks more when he's given the opportunity, but damn, it's hard for Stiles to just sit there all quiet like and wait it out. His (small amount of) patience pays off though, as Derek seems to think through his super important thoughts and finally decides to share them. 

"I...I'd like to try. Nothing serious, not dating, but you know. Seeing each other. With sex, yes Stiles, before you ask." Derek is looking at Stiles, who is looking back entirely too much, his eyes only occasionally flickering back to the dark, deserted back road through town. Stiles feels a spark of hope burn in his chest. 

"I can work with that, dude."

Stiles smiles at the answering huff from beside him. 

***

"Wait, so you're not dating him? I'm confused. Isn't that what 'seeing each other' means?" Scott asks, scratching at his sleep-mussed hair. Stiles feels a little bad about waking him up for an emergency Skype call, but it is in the bro code. Besides, Stiles put up with some of the same crap when Scott was having his epic Romeo/Juliet romance with Allison. He owed Stiles a few late nights. 

"Bro, I don't even know. I've been in like, one other relationship, and I don't think my third grade girlfriend really counts anymore." Stiles sighs, and repeatedly clicks at a pen in his hand. His emotions are kind of spiraling out of control. He's thrilled (ecstatic, even) that Derek has confirmed a definite continuing sexual relationship, he'd just like that relationship to also include cheesy movie dates and cuddling. Hell, for all he know, it does. Seriously, what the hell does 'seeing each other' really mean, other than dating? Scott has a good point on that one. 

"I just still can't believe you had sex with him in a parking lot. That's just-" Scott gets cut off by Allison not subtly at all bursting through the door in the background. She's wearing pajamas, her hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, a toothbrush in her hand. 

"Stiles! You had sex? With Sourpatch guy?" Allison flies across the room, abandoning her toothbrush somewhere along the way in the cesspool that is Scott's bedroom, and literally just rolls Scott out of frame. Watching the scene play out raises Stiles's mood considerably. "Stiles, tell me everything." Stiles can't contain the laughter that bubbles out of him, especially when he hears an indignant 'hey!' in the background from Scott. 

"You know, I'm glad you were eavesdropping, Allison. I have this feeling you'll give me better advice than Scott anyways."

Scott's face pops into frame next to Allison. "Not cool, bro." Allison kicks Scott out of his desk chair, resigning him to the ratty bean bag that he drags over from the corner. "Okay, Stiles." Allison says, all business. "Let's hear it."

"Well, I'd like to start off by reiterating that he has a really pretty dick."

It's worth it to hear Scott's long-suffering groan again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://hobbitonbound.tumblr.com/)


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